


Halftime

by the lady of shalott (astolat)



Series: Super Bowl Surprise [2]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Imported, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-02-23
Updated: 1998-02-23
Packaged: 2017-11-25 12:16:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/638811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astolat/pseuds/the%20lady%20of%20shalott
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This <em>was</em> going to be a silly PWP inspired by the nickname "Gupcake" for Blair, but out of the blue, it turned into a fairly angsty and complicated sequel to "Super Bowl Surprise".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Halftime

Barely conscious, Jim trudged down the hallway on autopilot, eyes almost shut, trying to block out the vicious headache banging on the inside of his skull. Issuing a silent prayer that Blair wouldn't be in, he fumbled his key into the lock and staggered through the door, only then picking up the rich, chocolate scent filling the loft. 

"Hey, big guy, you're home early today..." Blair stood behind the kitchen counter, holding a large bowl and looking vaguely guilty. 

"What's that smell?" Jim interrupted fiercely, his headache and rational thought vanishing together in a blinding wave of instinctive desire. He prowled forward, hunting for the source. 

"Oh... I'm baking something. But it's not ready yet, I just put it in the oven... Jim?" Blair eyed his Sentinel a little nervously, wondering at the intensity of his expression. He glanced down into the bowl, the interior still thickly coated with batter except for the tracks he'd made in his intial forays into licking it clean. He used a finger to scoop up some more of the chocolate mixture. "Want some batter?" he offered tentatively, holding the bowl out with his free hand. 

Instead, Jim zeroed in on the luscious dollop of liquid heaven on Blair's finger and promptly seized his wrist to bring it into range. "Mmmm..." he sighed with delight as he sucked the finger into his mouth. 

Blair jumped with shock and proceeded to splatter the contents of the bowl over his face, neck and shirt. "Oh, man! Jim, what are you _doing_... mmph!" 

What Jim was doing, at the moment, was licking batter off Blair's face while yanking his shirt open to bare the chocolate-coated skin of his throat. "Mmm. So good... oh yes... mmm..." A steady stream of incoherent murmurs spilled from the Sentinel's lips as he pinned Blair against the counter and sucked every last particle of chocolate from the now-flushed skin. 

No longer even slightly resisting, Blair let the bowl drop to the counter surface with a loud clatter and bared his throat to Jim's insistent caresses. "Oh, yeah... more, babe, please," he moaned with pleasure, the presence of Jim's mouth on his throat driving hot flashes straight down his spine. He ground his hips against the taller man's groin, letting his legs spread apart invitingly. 

At the pressure, Jim groaned wordlessly and stopped holding Blair against the counter, turning his hands to the task of getting rid of the irritating layers of clothing separating him from the prize he needed to claim. Buttons and zippers were too complicated to deal with when weighed against the option of tearing the fabric away. He had them both in shreds within moments, then his cock was driving into the cradling warmth between Blair's thighs, rubbing with maddening friction against the answering hardness of Blair's shaft. 

Blair blindly reached out and scraped out some of the mix, then grabbed Jim's cock and his own in the slick handful. Jim's hand joined his as they thrust upwards with total abandon, clutching at each other with their free hands, mouths fused together. They swallowed their mutual cry of completion as the final explosion overtook them, leaving them hanging onto the counter to stay upright, dripping with sweat and semen. A quiet whimper escaped the back of Blair's throat as Jim abandoned his lips and sank to his knees, hands white-knuckled on the counter's edge. "Oh. My. God," he panted weakly. 

Jim discovered an all-consuming fascination with the uneven paint surface of the counter wall. While strength was gradually returning to his limbs, the idea of actually standing up and looking Blair in the eye was not to be considered. He leaned forward and let his forehead rest against the wall, gulping in air and trying not to acknowledge the musky scent that tauntingly wafted around, announcing what had just happened. 

The remnants of his clothing rasping against the counter, Blair sank slowly down to the ground next to Jim, facing away from the counter. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the counter. After a few minutes of listening to his own breathing, waiting for some sign from Jim, he sighed and turned his head to look at his partner, offering a tentative smile. 

Jim unwillingly met the hopeful, blue-eyed gaze, his own eyes filled with confusion and guilt. He cleared his throat and tried, "Blair, I--" 

His throat closed up at the expression on the older man's face, his smile falling away as if it had never been there. "Please do me one favor, okay? Just *don't* tell me you're sorry," Blair said quietly. When Jim stopped talking, since he'd been about to say just that, the younger man added almost venomously, "God _damn_ you! If you're so fucking _sorry_ , why the hell do you do this? Is it some kind of game for you?" He pushed himself up off the floor and practically ran into his bedroom. 

Jim sat back and dropped his head on his knees, jaw clenching uncontrollably. Each choked breath his partner took echoed accusingly in his head until Blair slammed out of his room and into the bathroom. He slowly stood, wincing as the sticky mess all over his chest and abdomen pulled his hair in various directions. Somehow he suspected that freeing up the shower for him was not high on Blair's list of priorities at the moment, so he settled for using a dampened dishtowel to clean himself off. 

Staring at the mess now covering the rag, he opened the trash and threw it out, adding the scraps of torn fabric and the remnants of his shirt and boxers to the pile as well, zipping his jeans back up carefully. As he finished methodically scrubbing down the floor and counter, he remembered the baking, and pulled out the pan just before the dessert started to burn. Setting it down on the stovetop, he stared at the cupcakes, remembering how he'd let slip to Blair the other day his old childhood disappointment over never having the treats. "Oh, god." Blinking hard, he dropped his head into his hands, elbows resting on the counter. 

Blair found him like that when he emerged from the shower a little while later, and walked over to face him across the counter. He stood there silently for a while, then finally spoke. "You know, last time, I could understand. I was teasing you, and the chemistry got started so quick we really didn't have a chance to stop it. I could understand your wanting to just chalk it up to hormones and leave things alone." He shook his head. "Not that it was easy for me to do. I have to tell you, I had a pretty fucking hard time forgiving you for letting things get that far when you weren't ready to deal with the consequences. But this time... I don't even know what to say." 

"That makes two of us," Jim whispered, not looking up. "God, Blair... I was out of control. It was like what happened with the pheromones, only ten times as strong. I don't know why, I don't... Dammit! I couldn't stop myself... No. That's not it. I just didn't even _think_ of stopping. It wasn't an option." He scrubbed his hands over his face, straightened up. "I'd rather cut off both my arms than hurt you," he said tightly. "But I'm doing a pretty fucking good job of it, aren't I? I know you don't want to hear this, and it's not worth much, but I _am_ sorry. Sorry that I'm screwing everything up. I..." He stopped. 

"So what now?" Blair asked, very low, the anger gone and leaving only unhappiness in its place. "Where does that leave us?" 

"I don't know." 

Blair drew a shaky breath. "Right. I... I guess..." he paused, swallowed hard. "I guess I'd better pack." 

Jim's head came up at that. "What?" 

Blair looked away, eyes filling involuntarily. "Come on, Jim. I can't stay here anymore. Not like this." 

Staring at his Guide's face, Jim suddenly knew with awful certainty that if Blair left now, he was gone forever. "No," he said urgently, reaching out to capture Blair's wrist in his hand. "No. Don't go." His guts twisted at the tension in the arm he held, feeling Blair's withdrawal from him like a blow. 

"Give me an alternative." Blair refused to look up at him, instead staring down at the broad hand spread against his skin. "One that doesn't involve betting that this won't happen again. Because it will." He waved his free hand around aimlessly. "Maybe this sexual desire is something... genetic. Part of the Sentinel thing. Maybe you're just been repressing it so hard that it's totally out of control whenever it gets loose. But whatever it is, it's not going to go away because we pretend it's not there. And..." he sighed deeply. "I can't deal with it. Not... not with you acting like we're committing a crime. I'm sorry that you're so hung up over the gay thing--" 

"For God's sake! You think that's what this is about?" Jim let go and paced away, shoulders rigid. 

Blair looked up in surprise. "What else would it be about?" 

"Dammit, Sandburg, I've been bi since I was seventeen. I got over 'the gay thing' a long time ago." 

"You what?" Blair's expression would have been comic under other circumstances, eyes and mouth both open wide with shock that slowly transformed into confusion. "Hey! If you're _not_ hung up over that, what _are_ you hung up over?" Blair came around the island and confronted him. "Come on, man, talk to me here. What's the problem?" 

Fists clenching repeatedly, Jim shook his head and headed past him towards the balcony, staring blankly out over the water. Blair padded after him but left him plenty of space, quietly perching on the arm of the nearby couch and waiting. 

Finally, Jim said, voice rough and low, "I've fucked up every relationship I've ever been in. I can't... I can't afford to lose you." 

Blair sat silently, waiting, until it became obvious that Jim was finished. "Wait a second. That's _it_?" he demanded. 

"What more do you want?" 

"So, in other words, you've been putting me through hell and driving me away... because you're afraid of losing me." 

Blair's way of putting it made the whole thing seem like idiocy. Defensively, Jim rounded on him. "It would hurt a hell of a lot less to lose you now than it would after... if I thought... if I let myself believe you were here for good." 

Blair all but bounced over to him, the blue eyes no longer shadowed. He reached out and grabbed Jim's shoulders. "Oh, man, you are _so_ out there. I am here for good. I'm also here for bad, middling, and everything else that comes along. As long as you want me around, I'm here." 

Still resisting, Jim floundered, "Sandburg, have you even been with a guy before?" 

"Well, no, but I've always been quick at picking up new subjects." Blair gave him a deliberate leer. "And I've got this great material to study..." 

"Stop making this a joke!" Jim knocked away his hands, stalked back to the balcony. 

Rolling his eyes, Blair followed on his heels, forced Jim to turn back to him. "Stop making this a tragedy!" He tugged Jim over to the couch, pushed him down and crouched down in front of him. "Jim, we've been together for more than two years now. That's longer than you were with Carolyn, and it's definitely longer than I've ever been with anyone." He grimaced briefly, half to himself, and added, "Hell, it's longer than I've ever lived in the same place!" Looking back up, he squeezed Jim's hands. "I committed to you -- to _us_ \-- a long time ago." 

"How can you talk about committment? You were halfway out the door less than five minutes ago!" Jim accused. 

"Because you were acting like you couldn't stand the sight of me!" Blair flung up his hands. "Jim, _I_ am not the one who wanted to pretend we never had sex. I made it pretty clear that I was interested in more. You froze on me like a deer in headlights! What was I supposed to think?" 

"Look, Sandburg, maybe you need it spelled out for you. I'm not interested in more _sex_." 

"I know--" 

"I'm not interested in _experimenting_ with you." 

"I know!" 

"I'm not interested in trying things out for a while." 

"I love you." 

"What?" 

"I love you." 

Jim's hands tightened involuntarily, hard enough for Blair to wince a little. "Dammit, how can you say it just like that?" He squeezed his eyes shut. 

"Jim, babe, look at me. Come on, look at me." Blair waited until Jim reluctantly complied. "Have I ever lied to you? Well, really lied, not just fudged things a little in a non-critical situation." Jim's mouth quirked at the hurried qualification, but he shook his head. "Well, I'm not lying to you now. I love you. I'm not leaving you unless you make me." He unashamedly gave Jim his best pleading expression. "Please don't make me." 

Looking into Blair's loving eyes, Jim knew that he didn't stand a chance of resisting him. "I won't," he finally said. "Don't ever leave me." 

He barely finished speaking before he had his arms and his mouth full of a passionate, joyful Blair. Holding his Guide close, Jim tried to let the glowing heat of their bodies stifle the internal voice that warned him that it would hurt like hell when Blair finally left. 'This time, things will be different,' he promised himself. 

And prayed that it was true.


End file.
